


Soldier Boy, Take Me Home

by HandsAcrossTheSea



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Come Sharing, Coming Untouched, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Size Kink, Top Steve Rogers, Topping from the Bottom, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27658367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: Sometimes a picture is worth a hell of a lot more than a thousand words.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 168





	Soldier Boy, Take Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no excuse, I just wanted to write a little uniform kink and talk about Steve's tits. Maybe *I* am Bucky Barnes, we have no way of knowing for sure.
> 
> Also, please understand that I'm just here to write porn, and I feel like I accomplished my goal pretty well here. There's a hell of a lot of meta out there about the finer points of their trauma and things, stuff that other people articulate way, way better than I do. I'm only wanting to make the boys feel good, and I enjoy doing that.

For what it’s worth, Steve always feels pretty honored when he’s asked to fulfill the ceremonial duties that come with being America’s superhero. Things like giving speeches, VFW talks, documentaries. It doesn’t bother him, to delve into the past, to share his experiences. It always feels important to him that a new generation know what happened in their past, what happened to make the world the way it is now. There aren’t a lot of guys left from that time, especially those who are up to being in front of a camera of some sort. Steve is fortunate, in a way, to be able to retain that memory. With more and more of it becoming declassified, the further he’s at liberty to discuss it. With S.H.I.E.L.D gone and the need for everyone to go to ground for a while, chatting with 60 Minutes is about as public as he can reasonably afford to be.

This one felt different.

A couple of months prior, he had been asked to give the commencement speech at West Point. The Army’s premier college, training facility, the big one. At the time, Steve hadn’t cared where he got trained to fight for his country - so long as he got to do it. But to go to West Point, and see the future face of America’s protectors, it had been a full circle sort of moment. Maybe more than he had realized. It’s an honor for anyone, but Steve had never really considered this one would hit him a little harder. Could be down to the fact that their forefathers, they  _ made  _ him what he is today. He had driven up that morning, and up until he had gotten on his bike, it hadn’t been difficult to leave. It’s less than an hour and a half from his apartment - he had left D.C. as fast as he could, back to Brooklyn - but it still feels like a gulf between there and what he’s leaving behind.

Bucky. A damaged, emotionally fractured Bucky, who had been laying right there when Steve had come to from being pulled out of the river, and somehow there the night he had moved into the place just down the block from where their old apartment once stood. Steve had taken him in, scared out of his mind, but relieved in ways that don’t lend themselves to words. It’s the first time in months that he’s left Bucky behind, spending his days, his nights with him, watching, helping him put it back together bit by bit. He’s not much for the psychological fine points but he’s still doing the best he can. There’s no easy way of undoing what HYDRA had wrought - and it eats Steve alive every night before he lays down to sleep. Bucky shares the bed with him, and most of the time, Steve ends up wrapped around him, wanting to be the solid rock for him like Bucky was so long ago.  _ All you have to do is shine my shoes, take out the trash -  _ that memory has been running around a lot in his mind, for a long time now. There have been… moments of something approaching passion, Bucky trying to explore, to  _ be  _ with Steve, until the kiss fades and Bucky’s back to looking shell-shocked, retreating to the end of the couch and staring off into the distance. 

Steve remains, quiet, present, for whatever he needs. He doesn’t ask for much. Maybe help remembering something, a specific food - he performs his basic functions by rote. He eats, he bathes, he sleeps, but it’s all out of reflex. Steve doesn’t think he enjoys it, but there are moments when he  _ feels  _ more alive, and it’s those fleeting minutes that keep giving Steve hope. Bucky does sleep a lot, however; he doesn’t stir when Steve awakens early to go run or work out, indeed he’s often still out when he returns. Steve can’t help but think he’s earned that rest, and he lets him take as much as he needs.

But today, he had to get out, to get away from Bucky’s… emptiness. To do this, just for a while. He’d put on his Class As (tailor made, new since the Smithsonian has his old ones, and no one in the Army really has his dimensions for something off the peg) and mounted his bike, his speech tucked in his jacket pocket. He’s not worried about messing the threads up, not really; it’s a gorgeous day, and the route he takes is lightly populated by traffic. He finds his way to the ceremony, is applauded on his entrance, and sits alongside generals who seem far more interested in having their photo taken with him than anything he has to say. Why should they care? Their budget is practically unlimited, and they can throw as many guns and tanks at a problem as they want. In the back of his mind, he just hopes that Bucky doesn’t worry about where he’s gone. He had taped a note to the coffee pot, left him a phone with his number, and told him in it that note that he was free to come and go as he pleases. Bucky isn’t a prisoner, not anymore.

His speech had focused on loyalty - to values, to decency, to leaving no man behind. The silent movie of Bucky, falling from that train, the only Howlie to be lost, makes the contents of his words to these bright young men and women all the more poignant. Maybe he’s doing a little more penance than he thought he was for that, even though he has Bucky back. Physically anyway. Mentally… Steve isn’t sure what to do. He needs to consult someone, who can be discrete and really, really smart about what they’re doing. He’s pressed enough flesh today that he might be able to get some help, if it comes down to pulling strings like this. For Bucky, it’s worth trying.

He’s invited to stay for the banquet after, if he wants, but Steve’s used up as much of his social energy as he can for the day. It’s not hard to slip out during the recessional, when there’s still all sort of attention on the cadets, photos, and so on. He’s practically the first person out, and before anyone really notices, he’s on his bike back to Brooklyn. He lets his mind drift, figuring he’ll ask Bucky one more time if he wants to go work out with him. Lift weights, sweat, repeat. Bucky hasn’t taken him up on the effort yet, but today he’s got a good feeling he’ll go this time. He’s actively looking forward to it, and perhaps there’s a chance he’ll think of something else to help. It’ll be enough of a relief to take this suit off, and hang it back up to take for dry cleaning. Always a sucker for cleanliness, all his life. Less mess, less germs, less chance of…

It reminds him to put fresh flowers on Mom’s grave, too.

He arrives back in Brooklyn just as the mid afternoon sun is turning to late, and it’s up the stairs to the eighth floor he goes. He steps through the door, and there’s Bucky, wearing an Army t-shirt that Steve had cut the sides out of, wearing sweats, sitting on the floor and going through photo albums. He treats them like precious gems, and indeed, it had taken time to track them down again, and he certainly doesn’t have all of them. Some were lost to time, water damage - but he’s got the ones with he and Bucky. Sometimes Bucky looks at how they were, at Steve, trying to reconcile the man before him with the man in the pictures. There’s eighty years and a lot of pounds of muscle in difference, and Steve gets how that can be disorienting. Sure, Bucky saw him, touched him,  _ loved  _ him in this body, but how much of it does he recall?

Only Bucky can ever answer that question.

He treads quietly, Bucky’s attention rapt on those ancient pages. “I’m home, Buck,” he says, and Bucky nods without looking up. Steve rubs his shoulder as he sits down on the couch behind him. He peers over the shoulder, and the picture Bucky’s studying, it’s one from Europe, around the time that they got back to England. He’s wearing his dress uniform in it, much like what he has on now. “They’ve changed quite a bit since then,” Steve says, putting an arm over Bucky’s shoulders as he leans down. “Still just as nice, but not nearly as hot under the shoulders these days.”

“How would you know?” Bucky traces the fingers of his left hand over the picture, the metal joints quietly moving. “You hated the damn thing, said you felt like you were on permanent parade.” Steve smiles to himself - Bucky’s having a good day, if he can recall that piece of information. “You’re not active duty anymore, even if they  _ did  _ invite you to be the man of the hour.” He finally turns his head, and when he does, his mouth parts. “Oh, you… how did it…” He stands up, and Steve does too, just a couple inches between them. Bucky looks him up and down, and it’s like watching lights that haven’t had power to them in years come back on. “Wow.”

“It’s not the original, if you’re wondering. Gotta go to D.C. if you want to see that.” He stays still, letting Bucky take the edges of the lapels and run his fingers over them, his knuckles warm as they brush against Steve’s chest. Bucky’s mouth is parted, the tip of his tongue just visible, his eyes  _ focused,  _ zeroed in on his center mass. “Hold on,” Steve says, and goes to put a record on, some Jimmy Dorsey tunes. They had danced to him at a USO show, until they couldn’t anymore. Bucky nods, licks his lips, and grabs Steve’s lapels again. Steve touches his hips, starts to sway a little, and Bucky closes his eyes, moving with him, his head resting against Steve’s shoulder. “It’s The Dreamer In Me” comes on, this slow, sweet tune that takes Steve way, way back, to a time before the world ripped itself apart. “Remember this one, Buck?”

Bucky nods again, and Steve pulls him close. “Listened to it quite while you were up training, before you shipped out. Wore out four, five copies, think I made Jimmy more money than anyone else doing that.” He hooks his chin over Bucky’s shoulder, rubbing his back up and down, from the nape all the way to the dip of his spine. “Pretty sure this was the last song that-”

“They played at that show in Bristol, yeah. Yeah, it was Steve, and… you kissed me, after. In the dark, I couldn’t see you, but I could feel you.” Bucky lifts his head, and Steve’s heart grows a little bigger. “It was… it was good. Really, really good, and… seeing you, like this.” He reaches for Steve’s face and he pulls him down, right to his mouth, the kiss taking Steve by surprise in that it’s warmly present, and maybe he’s not quite there, but there’s far more than enough of Bucky in it to know that he’s got him, for now. Steve kisses back, hard enough to know that he’s not afraid to push a little. Bucky goes a step further and tugs at Steve’s bottom lip with his teeth, just enough to give him a  _ strong  _ jolt of pleasure, all the way down to his tailbone. “Big, Steve, you’re… you’re big. And I think you always looked really fucking good in your uniform, and before, I thought you might break me, just because it’s  _ so much muscle  _ but now…”

“Now I couldn’t hurt you if I tried.” Steve’s noticed, God, he’s noticed and catalogued and taken into account every single muscle of Bucky’s body, his thighs like tree trunks and shoulders… yeah, they’re huge. His chest, his arms, it’s all begging to be put to better use than its intended purpose. “Bucky, you don’t have to if… you know. I’m not gonna push you into something you don’t-”

Bucky shushes him with a kiss - “Steve, my mind’s running like someone’s cut the breaks, and this part,  _ us,  _ that night, it’s there. It is.” His lips part for Steve’s tongue this time, making him moan, and Steve could get hooked on that. He was once before, but now there’s not a global conflict pressing in from all sides on them. It’s just them, this apartment, and Steve feeling particularly glad that he  _ did  _ choose to go and give that speech. He’s going to take extra special care of this uniform now, if this is how it can do good. “Custom made?”

It takes Steve a second to realize what he’s asking - the suit. Yeah. “Had to be. Took them a few tries before they figured out something strong enough that I wouldn’t tear it at the shoulders. Don’t think anyone else in the services has my uh, unique body shape.” Steve laughs and Bucky kisses him one more time, backing him up so that his knees are to the edge of the couch. He’s already reacting to the lack of space between their bodies, the heat building along every inch where they touch. It’s down to Bucky to make that move - Steve can always jerk off in the shower later. Bucky, yeah, he’s getting hard too. Steve feels him against his thigh, and he wonders if… well, he doubts that it’s even been a concern for him in a long, long time. He can’t imagine HYDRA even  _ beginning  _ to care about that particular need. Bucky takes half a step back, his hands feeling Steve’s shoulders, his chest, his arms - everywhere that the jacket hugs him.

“Take it off, Steve. I want to see you.” The look in those eyes, it’s raw, unchecked  _ hunger,  _ and Steve does as he’s asked, taking the jacket and putting it over the back of the couch. The dress shirt is tighter still, but it stretches with him better than expected. Bucky is the one to take the tie off, and his buttons are undone as well, one by one. He’s not wearing an undershirt today, so every button that is removed from its hole shows off more and more skin, until Bucky is pulling the shirt from his pants and pushing it aside. “The chest hair is new. Hell,  _ any  _ of the hair is new.”

“Recent development - do you like it?” Steve aches to do the same to Bucky, to bare his body and touch him the way he’s been craving for so long. One step at a time. Bucky places his right hand over the middle of his chest and rubs, slowly, as though re-mapping roads long since forgotten. His heart starts to beat even more quickly, and he wonders if Bucky can feel the change in pulse. He pulls Steve close again, kisses him down to the couch and puts himself in Steve’s lap. There’s so, so much more of Bucky now, he’s heavier, stronger, coiled power laying in his body like a volcano that's been waiting too long to erupt. 

Bucky breaks their kiss, both hands on Steve’s face, so, so gentle. “I fucking love it,” he whispers, and covers his mouth again. Sucks Steve’s tongue, quick, hard,  _ needy.  _ Steve moans, and when he lifts Bucky’s shirt to dip in the back of his pants, Bucky mouths  _ yes  _ to him. That’s all he was waiting on, for that one little green light. For anything else that they need to talk about, he can stop to ask about it along the way. Bucky’s feral desperation is enough permission for him.

“Tell me what you need, Buck, anything, absolutely anything.” Steve gets his shirt off, finally, and Bucky’s is gone in a second, too. Chest to chest, it’s enough to give Steve access to parts of his soul he’s not explored for… well, a really fucking long time. Desire, lust, hitting his nervous system like lightning, to feel a body so familiar and yet different against his, it triggers those feelings in ever greater waves. He tears away from Bucky’s mouth and licks, bites his way down the strong column of Bucky’s throat. Bucky sighs, brings him back, another fearsome kiss given to Steve. 

“I want… your chest, Steve, I-” He puts him on his back, moving Steve like it’s  _ nothing  _ and that, fuck, it’s fucking erotic as hell. To be able to be tossed around like this. Bucky straddles him, squeezing his pecs, fingers digging hard into his skin. “Gorgeous fucking rack, doll, that’s for fucking sure.” He squeezes, and Steve pushes them together, hard as  _ fuck  _ in his pants. He reaches up and does the same thing to Bucky, feeling the packed muscle that had only been hinted at before he changed. Before Zola. Steve cups, rubs, and tugs Bucky’s nipples, making him moan loudly enough that Steve feels it in his molars. Bucky’s hips catch against empty air, his cock hard, tenting them out in far too tempting a manner for Steve to resist that much longer. “Fuck,” Bucky groans, and he lets go just long enough to reach and pull his cock out over his waistband. He’s  _ big,  _ bigger than he was before the serum, dripping precome from his long piss slit. He’s cut, unlike Steve, but that’s not a problem - Steve has  _ always  _ liked his cock, had spent hours in the past blowing, sucking, making Bucky fall apart lick by lick.

In the fingers of his left hand he manages to make stroking himself look fucking diabolical, and Steve could  _ not  _ be more into it. He raises himself up, looking into Steve’s eyes the whole time. “Those fucking tits, Steve, fucking hot as hell. Gonna mark ‘em up, just like I used to.” Claiming each other, knowing that no one else would do that for them - Steve’s spent a lot of lonely nights with that memory. “Did this against the side of a half-track in ‘44, too, down on your knees for me.” He moans, twisting at the head of his cock - and Steve reaches in the drawer of the coffee table, putting his hand on Bucky’s wrist to stop him.

“This will help,” he says, and he lubes Bucky’s cock up, the slick shiny against his metal fingers and skin. Bucky growls, resumes pleasuring his body, and Steve tries his best to keep his chest popped as he reaches around with his left hand to free himself. He can feel the wetness seeping through his pants, shoving them down just far enough to get firm grip on his own erection. He strokes with Bucky, feasting on the display of his body before him; he’s got the barest dappling of hair across his chest and under his belly, his dark pubic hair untrimmed. Steve loves that too, the natural look, his cock jutting up proudly from them. “Gotta say, Bucky, you’re better than anything I’ve tried to use in the past. Always did get me off best.”

Bucky flushes, smiling,  _ laughing -  _ and isn’t it fucking great to hear that again. “Sweetheart, you don’t know how fucking good it feels to even  _ want  _ this again.” He dips just long enough to raid Steve’s mouth again, stroking faster, harder, until his right hand is braced against the arm of the couch and he’s all gritted teeth and sweat. He comes without warning, shooting all over Steve’s chest and shoulder, a good deal of it nailing the upholstery - and Steve, he’s a split second behind him, pointing up and trying like hell to not get too much of it all over Bucky. He can’t help the force with which he climaxes, it’s  _ always  _ so fucking much, too much, even. Bucky pants, shudders, finally letting go of himself to crash back into Steve’s body.

He licks his come from his hand, sucking it right from his fingers as Steve looks on. Without missing a beat, he takes his left hand and feeds it back to Steve in fingerfuls, every metal joint sucked off, tasting like lube, vibranium, salt; Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how clashing enticing it is. They kiss after each one, too, swapping, sucking lips and tongues, making a hell of a dirty fucking mess with it. There's an exhilaration in doing this, maybe some disbelief too - did he ever think he would get to have the taste of Bucky in his mouth again? Steve’s dick stiffens even harder, his hands going all over, and Bucky tries to give him as much room as he possibly can. He wants to feel him, all of him, taste and remember and commit Bucky back to his memory until it’s all he has. They kiss until they’re breathless, naked at last, and Steve is worried that they’re making more than enough noise to get the co-op board to knock on the door. “I wanna fuck you, Bucky.” He misses that, the connection, the  _ heat  _ of it, making Bucky come and scream on his cock. “But you have to tell me you want it too.”

“I do, Steve. Fucking want you inside me, sweetheart.” Bucky grinds down on him, teasing the  _ hell  _ out of every nerve ending in his lower body.” He looks down at their sweat and come streaked bodies, waiting ever so patiently for Steve to make the next move - it’s clear to Steve that he’s still in need of some guidance. Or, maybe he just wants someone to tell him what to do and have it produce a  _ good  _ outcome for once. Steve sits up and Bucky slides off of him, following him to the bedroom. Now that they’re more on the same page, Steve imagines that their imprints on his mattress are going to become a hell of a lot more interesting. Bucky surprises him by getting on the end of it on his hands and knees, ass up, bending down and presenting his body. Steve has to stop and grab the base of his dick, throbbing as it is at that image - “what are you waiting on?”

“Nothing, not a fucking thing.” Steve goes and gets the lube (not letting Bucky see the dildo he uses on occasion, when he’s feeling  _ extra  _ lonely) and as he’s about to close the drawer, he realizes there’s a little less of the slick left than the last time he used it. He looks at Bucky, still in position and waiting, but there’s the barest hint of a smirk on his cheeks. “Buck, were you uh… did something happen while I was out this morning?”   
  


Bucky sits up on his knees, stroking his cock and looking  _ satisfied  _ with himself. Shit. “I rolled over into your pillow and your scent, it turned a few more lights on. And by the way, you aren’t as quiet as you think you are when you touch yourself. Never were. The last few days, it’s been getting better and better, but I just wanted to be one hundred percent sure that it was going to stick, Steve. Seeing you when you got home earlier was the seal on it. So yeah, I used your lube and your friend there. He’s nice, Steve, but I gotta say, I think I would much rather have you.” Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ Bucky, fucking himself open with his dildo, getting off on it and wanting more? “You gonna come fuck me out now, babe?”

Steve nods, taking the lube with him and standing behind Bucky, pressing a thumb to his hole. He still feels tender, puffy, and in the back of his mind, Steve is selfishly gleeful that he gets to be inside him that much sooner. “Don’t have any rubbers, Bucky - but this isn’t Italy, is it?” He coats his fingers with lube and then pours even more on Bucky, watching it drip down his balls and inner thigh. “Remember putting you right down on the forest floor, two hundred feet from camp. Never thought anyone could get that hungry for cock in the middle of a war zone.” He pushes a finger in, finding that Bucky’s body yields to him  _ incredibly  _ quick, and then he gives him two, fucking them in and out. “Nearly creamed my pants just watching you open yourself up, cause you always told me I didn’t do it fast enough.”

“Feels like that’s still true,” he growls, and Steve smacks him on the ass. Bucky moans, and Steve could listen to that all fucking day, every day. “I made myself come fucking twice earlier - do you have any idea how goddamn sensitive you are when no one’s touched you back there for so long?” A sharp, loud gasp tells Steve volumes, knowing he just found his sweet spot. “And all it fucking did, shit,  _ Steve,  _ keep fucking going - all it did was make me want you ten times as badly. Nothing ever did feel as good as you.” Steve gets a third finger in and Bucky’s whole body tenses, already teetering on the very edge of coming again. As badly as Steve wants to make him feel good, he really,  _ really  _ wants it to be with his cock inside him. “C’mon, Steve, fucking do it already.”

“I am, doll.” Steve pulls his fingers out and then comes to lie on the bed, pulling Bucky towards him - he wants the best seat in the house for this show, and he lubes his dick up quickly, placing his hands on Bucky’s hips. “Nice and easy, I’m a little bigger than  _ our  _ friend.” Hell, if sharing a dildo is what gets them closer together, so be it. They’ve swapped a hell of a lot more than that in their lifetimes. Bucky sinks down slowly, Steve’s eyes rapt on the space where his cock is disappearing into Bucky’s body. Precome pours from Bucky like a broken tap, his dick pulsing with his heartbeat - there’s another one for the eternal dirty slideshow. His hands are braced on Steve’s chest, dug into the muscle there with all the strength he’s got, and Steve doesn’t mind it a bit. Bucky can hold on for as long as he needs to. He groans, that last inch sliding in, head dropped forward - “I swear to fucking God that you got fucking bigger. Fucking thing is in my fucking guts.” He struggles to catch his breath, and one little shift is all it takes for Bucky to come again, his dick shooting freely all over Steve’s belly and lower chest, tipped over the edge by the sole factor of Steve being inside him. 

“You  _ are  _ sensitive, Bucky.” Steve holds on to his hips, relishing the way that Bucky’s orgasm pulls his hole ever more tightly around his dick. “Think it’s pretty fucking hot anyway, you know. Makes it a hell of a lot easier for me to make you feel good.” He starts to thrust his hips upwards, using his girth to stretch Bucky out further. Bucky closes his eyes, letting the sensations wash over him. “I fucking love doing that for you, Buck, you know that, right.” He has his hands on Bucky’s hips, giving him something to push back against, quickly figuring out that Bucky can take a hell of a lot more than he used in the past. Different body, different capabilities. “Ass is still fucking tight as all hell, too.”

“You think that would have changed somewhere along the line?” Bucky keeps his left hand on Steve’s chest while the right strokes his cock to Steve’s efforts, timed just right to give him maximum pleasure. “Been wantin’ it for a while, Steve - I haven’t missed how fucking big you are. The way you come back from working out looking like Mr. Universe, dripping with sweat. Every fucking thing about you, so, so fucking big. More for me to grab on to.” He’s deep in his own fantasy now, and Steve is dead set on making it more of a reality with every fiber of his being. “Ought to have had someone by now, Steve, someone to worship you down to the last inch of your body.” He’s drunk with lust, purring those golden words like a mantra - Steve’s ears burn with them.

“Can’t begin to think of one other person who I would even want to do this with, except you.” Faster, harder he fucks him, and Steve’s brain has long since handed the reins over to his lust. “Nothing ever comes close to you, Bucky, not how you feel, how you kiss me, how you understand or want me -  _ no one. _ ” He had mentioned to Nat once that it’s tough to find someone with a shared life experience, and it’s still true today. Bucky is the embodiment of what he had said, a second chance that he still doesn’t quite believe some days that he gets to have. Without stopping, he grabs Bucky by the hips and rolls them, putting him on his back and covering him in a kiss. His thrusts become more powerful, going long and deep, making Bucky’s iron-strength thighs wrap around his waist. “Gonna fuck the shit out of you, sweetheart, you better hold on.”

“Like hell if I’m ever letting go again.”

Every motion of Steve’s body to his makes Bucky’s tits jiggle, bouncing so fucking pretty, and soon he’s doing it  _ just  _ to make that happen, to watch how Bucky’s body reacts and adapts. There are scratches growing in number down his back, bruises in his shoulders and on his neck where Bucky’s mouth clings like a vice. It’s raw, hard, feraly passionate sex, an unchecked torrent that they’ve held back for such a long, long time. Bucky’s mouth runs non fucking stop,  _ yeah, that’s it Steve, fuck me with your big fucking dick, tear me the fuck up, make me fucking yours, just like that, fuck, fuck me fuck me fuck me -  _ that hasn’t changed. Bucky still fucking wants him so completely that Steve is sure his head is going to fly off. Steve kisses him, fucks him, wanting more and both at the same time until he finally comes, slammed deep into Bucky’s body, filling him up so that it starts to leak back out around his cock. It’s complete, draining, and in ten minutes he’s going to want to do it again.

“C’mere,” Bucky whispers, sucking on Steve’s tongue as he shoots off again between them, milked by his own hand. They share it yet again and Steve could do this all day, taste Bucky’s body and mouth. He loves him still, more than he ever has, really. Bucky doesn’t unwind his legs from around him, wanting him to stay right where he is.

“Should I put the uniform back on for the next round?” Steve thinks it’s worth asking, since it’s what started all this in the first place.

“Don’t you dare - I’m not done with you yet, and it’s only gonna get in my way. Now, if you ever feel like being presentable enough to take me to dinner…” Bucky lets it go, and Steve kisses him one more time, his heart fuller than it has been in a long, long time.

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fuwwOwErUHc - "It's The Dreamer In Me."


End file.
